


the whole world at your fingertips

by babyhandsnestor



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27450862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyhandsnestor/pseuds/babyhandsnestor
Summary: Mark holds Ethan’s hands closer. “Here, breathe with me.”Ethan does. He trembles with every breath in and out, and the way that he shakes makes Mark want to envelop him into a tight hug and hold Ethan together himself.“Do you think…” starts Ethan after a minute, swallowing down the shakiness creeping up his throat. He visibly fights to pull himself together. “Do you think it’s even possible for me to fulfill my potential?”Oh, Mark thinks. This is what Ethan had been tearing himself up over.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach & Ethan Nestor, Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 9
Kudos: 238





	the whole world at your fingertips

**Author's Note:**

> to note: as always, this is separate from them irl ofc!  
> i began to write this on election night, frozen with anxiety and fear, as a way to try to calm down.  
> based on sleeping at last's "i'll keep you safe," i hope this fic somehow can comfort you in any sort of way :’)  
> today, the day that i finished writing, was the day that the results were finally announced. i can't express the overwhelming cathartic feeling of relief and i only hope that you all are feeling just as relieved as i am <3
> 
> hope you enjoy!
> 
> tw/cw: anxiety, close to anxiety attack.

There’s a sickening hot iron of fear pressing down on his chest.

It doesn’t feel like the world is going to collapse. Or it does. Ethan doesn’t know. He feels like the world is going to collapse, but the fear is so overwhelming that it snakes into his eyes, tunnels his vision with hazy black smoke. 

Like a bubbling pot above the stove, green and lurching. _It’s going to bubble over and spill out,_ he knows, and he’s worried about burning what’s inside. And it boils over and he’s trying to save what he can but the water keeps boiling itself alive and spills onto the stove, the rug, the floor.

God, he needs it to stop. His chest feels like it’s giving in.

With every breath, his ribcage trembles. Curling up and pressing his face into the pillow, he holds his breath, lets it out slowly, ignoring the way that his body is still shaking with every inhale of oxygen.

A particular breath sends pain shooting up the back of his ribcage and Ethan chokes on his tongue. Blinking tears into the pillow, he grabs at his elbows, wrings his hands out. Pinching his thumb again and again and again.

Fuck. Everything feels _wrong_. 

Before he can overthink it, his mind is screaming out for help, reaching for his phone and texting a desperate message to the first person on his mind.

_To: annus_

_i’m on the brink of either sobbing or sobbing with a full on anxiety attack_

He’s hit send before the sensation of touch on his fingers, tingling and numb, really register. Fuck, maybe he shouldn’t have done that. Mark never replies to texts all that often, and he was probably busy - like he always was, fuck, he works so hard. What time was it? Past ten? Mark was probably already asleep then, as he usually was at this time, and fuck, he’d see Ethan’s message in the morning and ask him about it and he’d have to explain-

With a click, he turns off his phone, not wanting to see if Mark leaves a read receipt or types a reply. He doesn’t want to know. But somehow, he can’t bring himself to regret sending the message, though. He feels like he’s drowning and Mark is his lifeline.

Ethan’s phone buzzes and lights up.

_annus:_

_Fuck, are you okay?_

A pause.

_annus:_

_I’m on my way. Hold on_

Ethan grips the phone in his hands, trembling breath and all. Shuts off the screen again because it begins to burn his watery eyes, and he barely can handle more visual input into his brain.

Hell, it was late. He definitely just kept Mark from sleeping and resting as he deserved. But the lack of guilt and shame he was able to bring upon himself felt strangely empty. At the moment, he could barely worry about Mark seeing him in this state - Mark has already seen Ethan at his lowest points and worst pains before. He desperately needed someone right now, because right now he was barely holding on, waiting for someone to ground him in reality. 

It feels like an endless cycle of holding himself together on the couch. He’s trembling and shivering from what feels like he’s cold and freezing, but he’s also definitely sweating, the searing hot iron still pressing down onto his chest, suffocating him.

The sound of his harsh breathing is so loud in his ears that he barely registers when there’s the sound of a knock at his front door. He barely hears the jingling of Mark’s keys and the turning of the knob, before the door opens.

  
  


\-----

“Ethan?” Mark calls out softly, closing the door behind him. 

“Here,” Ethan’s voice comes, audibly shaky, from the shared living room. 

Toeing off his shoes, Mark pads into the dimly lit room. His eyes fall on Ethan, curled into the couch, and something in his heart pulls painfully at the sight.

“Hey, Eth,” Mark murmurs, as gently as he can. He kneels down by the couch, knees protesting the hardwood floor, but he ignores it.

Ethan shifts up against the armrest of the couch, lifting his chin so he can see Mark, but he barely can make eye contact with the other, unable to manage words. His eyes are a bit wet, tears clinging to his eyelashes, and Mark aches to brush them away.

_I'll keep you safe._

“Can I touch you?” asks Mark, not wanting to overwhelm the other or overstep any boundaries. He’s not the best person to deal with situations like this, he thinks. But he’s going to try his very best to comfort Ethan.

Ethan nods. Carefully, Mark scoots up next to Ethan onto the couch, gently pries away his harsh fingers that are digging into his arms and holds his hands in Mark’s own. 

Shuddering, Ethan’s breath hitches at the contact. Soothingly, Mark brushes his thumb over the other’s hand, wishing he knew how to help more.

_Try hard to concentrate._

“What can I do to help? Do you want to talk about it? Or I can try to distract you and talk about something else, that’s totally fine too, I can talk endlessly and we’ve got all the time in the world-” Mark starts to say, but Ethan shakes his head a bit.

“I-It’s fine, Mark, thank you for being here,” Ethan replies, managing a tiny wobbly smile. “I could talk about it, but honestly, I don’t know why- no, I don’t know how to say, why I’m like this right now.”

“That’s alright. We have time, I’m here for you.” Mark holds Ethan’s hands closer. “Here, breathe with me.”

Ethan does. He trembles with every breath in and out, and the way that he shakes makes Mark want to envelop him into a tight hug and hold Ethan together himself, but Ethan seems too vulnerable right now. Marks swears that whoever had done this, or whatever had happened, he would do anything in his power to try and fix it.

“Do you think…” starts Ethan after a minute, swallowing down the shakiness creeping up his throat. He visibly fights to pull himself together. “Do you think it’s even possible for me to fulfill my potential?”

_Oh,_ Mark thinks. This is what Ethan had been tearing himself up over. There’s a pause, before Ethan continues.

“Because I’ve been thinking about it. How I have so many ideas and concepts I want to act on, and how they’re so overwhelmingly big. How I have skills, how you’ve said I’ve got the talent to do what I set my mind to. But am I enough?”

“Of course you’re enough, Ethan,” says Mark. God, how could he show Ethan just how much potential and ability that Mark saw in him? 

_Hold out your hand_

_Can you feel the weight of it,_

_The whole world at your fingertips?_

“I guess, but how many possibilities are there in ways to execute ideas that I have to choose from? And how are the chances that it won’t be the best one?”

“So you just have to try, Eth. Try and work your hardest, and that’s all that anyone could ask of you.”

“That’s the _thing_ though. So if I fail? What do I do? At that point, have I spent my life trying my best and my best isn’t enough?” Ethan says, in a desperate tone. “Mark, I want to make so much _change_ . Especially now, in this society, there’s so much that I could do, with- with the platform I have. It’s just _so much_. The world is so much, and what needs to be done is so much. Will what I do ever be enough? And if what I do ends up never impacting anything?”

He looks away. “I don’t know. I know I must be overthinking it, but the thought of doing anything now makes me so anxious and nervous that I feel sick. I’m just… I’m just afraid of failure. My life’s work becoming a failure.”

It clicks, and Mark understands. He’s felt the same way before, it’s just that Ethan and Mark seem to handle the fear in very different ways. He’s reminded of the words of the hypnosis therapist that they’d visited months ago for the video, and the different kinds of people who handled challenges in split ways.

_Don't be, don't be afraid_

_Our mistakes they were bound to be made_

_But I promise you I'll keep you safe_

“Eth,” Mark says softly, holding Ethan’s shaky hands steady. “Setbacks and failures are part of life, and we’re all bound to make them at some point. That’s how we progress forward.”

Quietly, Ethan nods, brows furrowed as though he knows this already. But he still listens with his head resting to the side against the couch cushions.

“And I know it’s scary, but you don’t have to be scared.” Mark continues. “Your community. They’re so kind and so loyal - most of them, yes. They’ll support you through anything. And your friends, and me, we’ll be here through anything you work through. Anything that you work on, you won’t be alone, you know? You have an entire team behind you, always. And me.”

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Ethan looks away and down, chewing on his bottom lip. The ache in Mark’s chest grows. He doesn’t know what Ethan is thinking right now, which scares him - usually he can read his friend incredibly easily. 

“No failure will be the end-all of all. A project doesn’t turn out the way you wanted? Maybe it’s funnier, or better in an unintentional way! Or we gather everything from our experiences and pick you right back up. And your life’s work isn’t a failure- I’m already so proud of what you’ve done. And you have so much ahead of you.”

When Ethan sniffles, pulling his hands away from Mark to cover his face, it’s only then that Mark realizes that he’s crying.

“Hey, hey,” Mark mumbles, panicking slightly. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, no no, Mark, you’re good,” manages Ethan, shakier than ever, his hands still over his face. 

Still worried and confused but hoping that means that he can touch the other again, Mark hesitantly puts his hands on the top of Ethan’s thighs. “Okay, I’m here for you.”

And Ethan unfolds like a flower. Mark easily wraps his arms around him when Ethan shifts over, tucking himself in the space under Mark’s chin, finally allowing catharsis for himself in someone else’s safe arms. Just Mark holding Ethan, shielding him from everything else in the present, and the older could only hope that he could provide any sort of comfort in his times of doubt.

_You'll be an architect_

_So pull up your sleeves_

_And build a new silhouette_

_In the skylines up ahead_

_Don't be, don't be afraid_

_Our mistakes they were bound to be made_

_But I promise you I'll keep you safe_

_I'll keep you safe_

Mark vows that no matter how long it takes, he’s going to tell Ethan how much he genuinely sees in him as often as he can. Of course there was work to improve and time that he’d need to put in, but Ethan just needed the support, and Mark _knew_ that he would be able to.

Since four years ago, when he’d asked Ethan to come out to LA, he’d seen his potential, a drive to keep creating and making and the eye for lighting and editing and humor. He’d been doing it for so many years and had been unhesitatingly willing to push forward and keep going, despite the world not having acknowledged his work yet. 

And Ethan had proved the ability of his talents again and again, in silly regular videos, on tour, in filming A Date and all his bigger projects and Heist. And he was _young_ and _eager_ and outstandingly skilled. 

“I sometimes don’t understand how you don’t see your own ability,” Mark says, gently. “I genuinely, honestly expect you to be able to surpass me, change the world and your future in even greater ways.”

At Mark’s words, Ethan seems to cry harder, and Mark’s heart aches just a little more as he pulls Ethan closer to him.

_And darkness will be rewritten_

_Into a work of fiction, you'll see_

_As you pull on every ribbon_

_You'll find every secret it keeps_

“Hey, now, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Mark mumbles. “When I was saying you had glowing potential in the staring contest video, and all the talent and skill I said you had in the brutally honest one, I wasn’t kidding, you know?”

“Yeah,” chokes out Ethan, letting out a small, wet laugh. “Oh my god, I’m sorry I’m like this. Just- just overwhelmed. Fuck, Mark, why you gotta be this nice right now?”

Mark rolls his eyes with a smile, petting through Ethan’s hair. “Shush, I’m trying to comfort you here.”

It’s a bit longer before Ethan finally steadies his breath, hiccuping a bit. Mark can feel him hesitating, thinking about pulling away, but Mark wants him to know that he can stay as long as he needs. That Mark would _prefer_ to be close to him.

_The sound of the branches breaking under your feet_

_The smell of the falling and burning leaves_

_The bitterness of winter or the sweetness of spring_

_You are an artist_

_And your heart is your masterpiece_

_And I'll keep it safe_

Mark doesn’t know if Ethan knows how much he adores him. How much he’s learned to love him over the season and the years, the quirks of his personality and his loving qualities, the hurricane of a person and energy in him that makes Mark in awe to just be able to be Ethan’s close friend.

He shifts his knees out from under him into a more comfortable position and, after a moment of consideration, presses a kiss into Ethan’s hair.

Ethan stills in his arms, and a beat later, starts to giggle. “Aw, that was sweet.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” grumbles Mark teasingly, cheeks flushing a bit. 

After crying, Ethan has thankfully stopped shaking. Mark is infinitely relieved to feel that the other is mirroring his slower and deeper breaths, and the mood is much lighter now.

“‘M sorry you had to see that.”

“No, it’s okay, it happens. Normalize letting out your emotions, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know, but…. Okay, yeah. Thank you so much for being here, Mark.” Ethan sighs. “I just, _everything,_ you know?”

Mark hums in agreement, tracing light patterns on Ethan’s back.

“With the news, and the constant ongoing of everything outside, and I guess I was just exhausted from filming and editing.” Ethan mumbles into Mark’s shirt. “And then I checked my phone and I had a bunch of texts and emails from brand deals, and I remembered that I had a sponsorship deadline by tomorrow that I needed to do, and it was just overwhelming. And it’d been building up and up and up but the anxiety wouldn’t stop freezing me up and I couldn’t cry or get angry or anything, just- frozen in fear.”

“Mhm.”

“And I guess I felt like if I couldn’t handle _this_ now, how can I tackle the bigger plans I wanted to do in the future? So I just started to panic. Like- what, what if I never fulfill that potential? Never fulfill expectations?”

_Dismiss the invisible_

_By giving it shape_

_Like a clockmaker fixes time_

_By keeping the gears in line_

_Don't be, don't be afraid_

_God knows that mistakes will be made_

_But I promise you I'll keep you safe_

“I don’t think there’s an upper limit on potential,” considers Mark, after a moment. “Or, that’s not what I wanted to emphasize. It’s not something like a definitive space as to how much of it you can fill. More so, you push the limits every time, and you can’t measure it. It’s just the all-or-nothing, that you know you did what you wanted to do.”

Ethan nods against his chest. Curled into Mark on the couch, he realizes how _easy_ and _right_ it felt to just hold the other, talking like they normally did. Talking with Ethan was always so easy and so natural, and they would usually talk longer like this on walks through the neighborhood, but now like this, it was so much more domestic and tender than he could ever imagine them to be.

“So, I guess that it’s just being able to be _proud_ of what you’ve done, y’know? If I died now, though I talked all the shit about wasted potential, I know that I’m happy with the things that I accomplished. I’m proud of what we’ve done, and it’s like what we said for Unus Annus, we made the best of what we had. In another universe, we could’ve been luckier, but we can find comfort and pride in what we did the best of.”

“That makes a lot of sense, yeah. Just thinking back and knowing that you did do it, and rather than beat yourself up for the things you couldn’t do because of things you couldn’t control, just look back with pride.”

“Mhm.” Mark nudges the other. “And hey, I’m really proud of how much you’ve done, man. I know I said you have so much potential to do so much more - which is true - but so far, you’ve already come so far. I’m proud of you. And look at Unus Annus and how much you were able to do! From Unus Annus, how much we worked to make it the best at that fixed time, you should know that you have the ability to accomplish whatever you want to do.”

Tilting his head so he can look up at Mark, Ethan gives him a smile, so full of some emotion that Mark can barely begin to understand it. “Thank you, Mark.”

Mark squeezes his hip in response and pulls him closer. “I’m only saying the truth.”

Ethan rolls his eyes, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. Compared to the Ethan that Mark had seen when he’d walked into the room, it feels like a lifetime ago already. He’d do anything to make sure Ethan never went through that feeling alone again. “ _Maarrk_ , you’re getting so soft. Who knew you could be like this?”

“Shush,” huffs Mark, sticking his tongue out in mock disgust. “We don’t speak of it.”

_As you build up your collection_

_Of pearls that you pulled from the deep_

_A landscape more beautiful_

_Than anything that I've ever seen_

They tease each other and banter for quite a bit longer, and Mark is hesitant to pull away at any point. He knows it’s probably getting very late, and he _should_ get back to his own place, but he can’t think of any reasons besides the fact that he doesn’t want to bother Ethan. But Ethan seems the opposite of bothered, and he hasn’t moved at all - mostly mentally and physically exhausted and scraped raw from the emotional release he’d had.

Mark doesn’t mind. He doesn’t want to move from here, where Ethan is a grounding, comfortable weight on top of him, warm and safe. He’s never connected with someone on such a basis level more than he has with Ethan. All their shared experiences and touches together, it creates an environment more safe and beautiful than he’s ever had in his life before.

He doesn’t know when, but somehow, Ethan ends up drifting off, hair tickling Mark’s collar, little puffs of air escaping his mouth. It’s so endearingly cute and Mark’s heart is warm.

_God,_ he knows Ethan is talented and skilled and independent and _perfectly_ capable of handling and protecting himself, but when he’s so close like this, trusting in Mark to see him like that in such a vulnerable state, Mark can’t help but feel a need to keep him safe.  
  


Ethan is unlike anyone or anything he’s ever encountered. He doesn’t know what it means, but the depth of how much he feels it is both intimidating and yet so enchanting.

He considers reaching over and turning off the lights, letting himself drift off here on the couch as well, but he thinks about the back pain that would inevitably come the next morning and winces. Mark hates to disturb Ethan from his well deserved rest, looking so at peace, but he knows that Ethan would regret it much less if he moved to his bed.

Instead, he gently nudges Ethan. “Eth, do you wanna move to your bed?”

“Mm?”

“ _Bed._ Or else back pain.”

“M’okay,” Ethan mumbles sleepily. He cracks open an eye and gives Mark a pleading look. “Can you carry me?”

“Wh-” starts Mark, teasing exasperation in his tone as he sees Ethan giving him an exaggerated puppy face. “Making me do everything for you, huh?”

“C’mon, c’mon, you know you love me.”

“ _Fine,_ I’m carrying you to bed, you baby,” Mark rolls his eyes, sitting up and carefully scooping Ethan up. _Anything for you,_ is what he doesn’t say, as he makes his way upstairs.

“Oh my god, I wasn’t expecting you to actually do it,” Ethan says, eyes wide. 

“I- really? You _asked!”_ splutters Mark indignantly, pausing to shift Ethan’s weight so he can flick the light switch off with his elbow. Ethan giggles.

“Not complaining though.”

“You better not,” Mark mutters, Ethan letting his head rest on his shoulder and smiling sleepily at him.

Finally, Mark lets down Ethan onto his bed, planning to head back down and sleep on the couch because it was too late to drive back home. But Ethan wraps his arms around Mark’s neck, and protests when Mark tries to untangle himself from the other. 

“Stay?”

Mark’s heart pulls. “It’s late, I have to go, we have to film tomorrow.”

“It’s too late to drive.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“But your _old man bones._ ” Ethan says dramatically. “Two bros can cuddle for a night, it’ll be nice. Please? For me. I mean, unless you really don’t want to.”

_The sound of the branches breaking under your feet_

_The smell of the falling and burning leaves_

_The bitterness of winter or the sweetness of spring_

_You are an artist_

_And your heart is your masterpiece_

_And I'll keep it safe_

“Fine,” Mark sighs, flicking off the lights, and his heart sings at the softness and immediate sleepiness of falling into Ethan’s bed, curling up on the mattress and Ethan wrapping his arms around him again. 

“Thank you, I love you,” Ethan tells him teasingly, in the same way that he had just a week before the end of Unus Annus. It lights up all of Mark’s heart, and even as he grumbles “Okay, okay, now sleep,” at Ethan, the lightness in his voice is obvious.

Because Ethan is safe, and in his arms. It feels right, like it was meant to be.

**Author's Note:**

> some time ago one of my best friends created a sleep playlist for me, and put this song first. ever since, this song has meant so much to me, and has comforted me through some of my lowest points.  
> it reminded me of these two so much that i had to write this, and i hope i did the song and their dynamic justice!  
> i'm also just pretty emotional because while i was writing the last part of this, i was reminded of my longest friend and i and how easily we tend to dive into deeper and more curious conversations, and i haven't had the chance to talk to her often because of the world situation rn :') but i did name the document for this fic "emo hours" for a reason haha.
> 
> anyways, thank you so much for reading!! feel free to leave a kudos or comment, i always appreciate them so much <3
> 
> as always, find me @babyhandsnestor on tumblr. love you all and i hope you are doing alright! <3


End file.
